


The Last of Forever

by JustADreamForUs



Series: This is the Ugly Truth (when all you've seen is beauty) [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Bottom Lance (Voltron), Confessions, Dirty Talk, Drama, First Time Bottoming, Fluff and Angst, Foiled Confessions, Galra Keith (Voltron), Gay Keith (Voltron), Insecure Lance (Voltron), Keith (Voltron) is Bad at Feelings, Lance (Voltron) is Bad at Feelings, Lance (Voltron) is a Mess, Langst, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Mental Instability, Mutual Pining, Oblivious Lance (Voltron), Pining Keith (Voltron), Pining Lance (Voltron), Post-Canon, Romance, Smut, Top Keith (Voltron)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-28
Updated: 2017-09-28
Packaged: 2019-01-06 09:05:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12208110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustADreamForUs/pseuds/JustADreamForUs
Summary: Lance is emotionally compromised.\He knows he’s selfish. That Keith is drunk, that Keith is leaving. But how can he deny that boy anything when Keith’s looking at him like that?He wants to engrave his essence on the other. Make Keith remember him, ruin him for anyone else. He’ll make Keith fall in love with him, he’ll get better, and finally be on equal footing with Keith.(Except he already is. He’s good enough. And always will be, to Keith.)





	The Last of Forever

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! 
> 
> Here it is, the promised prequel for Bottom of the Hourglass. I hope everyone reads this carefully because it would explain several things in the next work (although it can be read as a stand alone). I do not speak Spanish, and I do not have an editor so please point out any mistakes you see! (As a broke college student I need all the help I can get HAH)
> 
> I hope you enjoy this story <3

** The Last of Forever **

 

They had defeated Zarkon. Well not exactly Zarkon persay, but more of his empire and Lotor. Through his comms, Lance could hear the roaring of delight, the pounding noise of feet stampeding around that echoed in his helmet. But that wasn’t what Lance was looking at as his blue eyes widened, creases, worry lines deepening as he stared off into the oblivion that was space. It was the cascading fire that wrecked dark metal, the slight shine of steel as the ships cracked, purple lights fading as screams of the dead somehow fill his cabin. Blue’s questioning hum has him shaking his head as he mentally pushes her away, chiding gently that he’s okay. But he isn’t.

 

 

“Lance? Lance! Man, are you okay?”

 

 

“Wh-what? Yeah I’m fine buddy. All in a day’s work right?” Lance chirped into his comms as Hunk’s voice wriggled into his frozen state of mind.

 

 

“Lance, we just defeated _Zarkon_.” Hunk gawked and Lance sighed as his fingers tightened on the handles before going lax. Hunk wouldn’t understand. As much as he loved him as a brother and gave Hunk the ultimate position as best friend, there were some things that Hunk wouldn’t get. And honestly, neither could Lance at this point in time. He was feeling tired, and his muscles ached. Nothing interested him, and Lance could _feel_ how lethargic he was. How it was a chore to get out of bed and not to roll back under the covers every single day. God, what was _wrong_ with him? He was going back home, back to _earth_. But instead of anticipation, there was only dread.

 

 

“That means I can find my parents!”

 

 

_Right._

 

 

As Keith’s voice reverberated in his helmet, Lance pursed his lips, irritation rising.  Around him, Blue gave a low rumble and Lance slammed his head against the dashboard as Blue entered the hangers. It wasn’t Keith’s fault that he was excited to find his parents or his lineage, Lance knew that the boy had been abandoned at a young age due to the circumstances of the war and that he was eager to find out who he was. But still, it didn’t stop the strong wave of sadness and anger that roiled in his chest at the prospect that Keith was leaving. That Voltron was probably _disbanding_.

 

 

“Paladins! There is a celebratory feast in the kitchens so please head down here as soon as possible so that the dignitaries and our allies get greet you!” Allura’s voice cuts through and Lance almost groans out loud, catching himself a split second later that the comms were still open and that everyone would have heard him. Closing his eyes, Lance felt his thoughts drift, trying to map out what he would do now that it was all over. What _was_ there to do after it was all over?

 

 

“Sure thing Princess.” Shiro responds and Lance stays silent still, even as Pidge prattles on and on about how she could finally meet her mother and Hunk bemoans the many Hawaiian dishes he would finally be able to taste again.

 

 

“Lance? You alright there buddy?” It’s Shiro’s voice that rides through Lance’s dazed thoughts and he doesn’t manage to hide the sigh that escapes his lips as he opens his eyes.

 

 

“I’m going to stay in Blue. Recap about the fight.”

 

 

“Aww come on Lance!”

 

 

“I can’t believe you’re getting serious _after_ the battle.”

 

 

“Lance-”

 

 

“Sorry guys,” he can’t help himself as he cuts off Shiro again, voice flat as he finally lifts his head from the dashboard, “I’m not in the mood for a party.” Silence grows, and he can hear Hunk’s soft ‘oh’ and Pidge’s discomfort radiating through. He feels terrible for being surly, but he needs space, _oh the irony_ , to process his thoughts. He couldn’t afford to let them grow and spill over in front of everyone. Not now. Shiro’s murmur of assent is enough for him and Lance is just about to yank off the helmet when Keith’s voice greets him, gentle and hesitant.

 

 

“Backing out of a party? That’s a first.”

 

 

Incredibly, Lance feels air rush to his lungs, chest expanding and something flares white hot in him as his back straightens. That sudden rush of emotions surprises Lance and he pauses, just in time to read and categorise them under anger. It takes even longer for him to realise that the comms are still open, the other paladins cautiously waiting for a reply. Because Keith is _reckless_ , Lance reminds himself, breathing in deeply and trying to quell the intense wave of pure anger that is, out of the blue, rushing into him like a tsunami. _Keith is reckless_. He likes to take _risks_ and he _feels_ instead of _thinks_ , he _acts_ instead of _hesitating_ , is a socially clueless _moron_ whose hair sticks up after a shower and is _so fucking dense_ that he doesn’t even realise that Lance-!!

 

 

Keith. Is. Reckless.

 

 

And he is also Lance’s biggest fucking problem.

 

 

“Don’t wait up for me.” Lance mutters, punching a few buttons on his dashboard with his left hand as his right hand reaches out to adjust his pilot seat. A few ‘okays’ greet him and Lance almost weeps in relief as each of them signs out of his comms. Everyone but one.

 

 

God, the mullet really was infuriating.

 

 

“... Lance…?” And there he was again, voice wavering for a split second that makes Lance want to cry right there and then in his cabin. It’s soft and worried, and Lance knows what face Keith is giving him right now as they speak. It’s the one whereby he chews on his bottom lip, nose crinkling as he frowns and if Keith was right here with him, Lance knew that the other boy would have laid a hand on his thigh, grip slightly stronger than usual, as if that would anchor Lance to him.

 

 

“I’m fine. Just, go enjoy yourself Keith.” Lance forces out, lips pressed into a thin line as _he_ backs out of the comm link before Keith could get a word in edgewise. The red paladin had always been stubborn, Lance thinks to himself as he gets off the seat, resting his helmet on the dashboard and opening the side compartment. A bath was long overdue, Lance thinks as he shucks off his armour, mind a million miles away from the castle. He could cry later, in Blue’s bathroom where no one would ever know.

 

 

Keith stared at the controller still in his hands and felt something akin to fear well up in him before he squashed it down. It was nothing, Lance was just being Lance. There were no druids in the battle that Lance came into direct contact with. There were no life-threatening injuries or else Blue would have gone berserk. There was nothing that could be wrong and yet. He could feel Red’s alarm as his hands tightened on the controller, nails elongating into claws before shrinking. And yet Lance was lying to him. Red hummed in agreement and Keith snarled, slamming a fist on the dashboard before wincing as Red gave a low grumble of annoyance.

 

 

“Sorry Red…”

 

 

He gets a nudge in return, a jab at his consciousness before his mind his flooded with images of a drink and a brief memory of Lance hugging him. Even knowing that it had happened before, Keith could still feel his cheeks flush light purple as he remembers Lance clinging onto him, gasping his name. He had barely survived after being caught in a ring of bombs that detonated around him, and his only saving grace had been his paladin shield that helped prevent him from being crushed to death. He wasn’t sure how long he had stayed down there with his strength being sapped as he maintained the shield, but Red had raked the rubble off him. And Lance, sweet Lance had bowled him over onto his back, tanned arms wrapping tightly around Keith as he buried his face into Keith’s neck, sobbing his name. Of course, Lance somehow has no recollection of said incident, but Keith was _on_ to him. Red chortles at that thought and Keith scowls, pulling off his helmet as his ears flattened against his skull.

 

 

Being allied to the Blade of Mamora meant that the Paladins of Voltron were crucial in helping people change their perceptions of the Galras, and what better way than to have Keith as the walking poster boy? Initially Keith had kicked up quite a fuss about displaying his heritage, but it was Lance that had gotten him to agree. Red faced, the blue paladin has said the iconic words, ‘ _I love you man, even if you’re a fucking furry!_ ’ and the whole team had collapsed on the floor, laughing as Keith’s ears flickered in shock and a light pastel purple blush conquered half of Keith’s face and neck. Those words might not have meant much to Lance, but Keith had spent countless nights after that mulling over those three words, and always, he had ended up in his Galran form with his heart beating way too fast to be normal.

 

 

“God I’m so gay for him Red.” Keith mumbled through his hands that covered his cheeks, amber eyes flickering to the blue lion that sat a few metres away from his own. The image of Lance saying ‘ _I know_ ’ runs through his mind and Keith swears, jumping out of his seat and giving Red the finger even as his Lion cackles in Shiro’s voice.

 

 

“I hate you.” Keith hisses as the doors opened and the stairs unfolded before him, his tail thrashing in agitation.

 

 

‘ _Love you too Kogane_ ’ Is the answering thought he gets from his Lion, and it does not help that it’s in Lance’s voice. Snarling, albeit fondly at Red, Keith grumpily heads off towards the shower, tucking his helmet under his arm as he speed-walks away. Reaching the showers, Keith allows a bright smile to cross his face at seeing the empty showering room. The other must have headed back to their rooms instead, which left Keith the entire silver bathroom. Opting for a quick bath, Keith greedily sneaks under the warm spray and a delighted mewl escapes his lips as the heat bathes over his skin. Reaching out for the bottle of shampoo, Keith finds himself pondering as he pours the soap over his head, raking his hands through the foam and his black hair.

 

 

He would leave with Kolivan and the other Blades after a few days to head down to the rebel camps. There he would be able to learn more about his parents, and they might even still be there, although Keith personally harboured little hope on that front. The more pressing question was what should he do about _Lance_. Keith knew that Galrans acted on instinct and he had initially thought his intensity towards Lance stemmed from the fact that he was seeing the other as a family member. Except he didn’t feel like tackling Shiro when he flirted with the Princess. He didn’t mind Hunk talking about Shay, a potential love interest all day either. But he _hated_ it when Lotor had called Lance beautiful and had ran his hand across Lance’s face _like he belonged to Lotor in the first place?_ Lance belonged to him, belonged to _Keith_ , _everything about Lance was Keith’s_. A loud screeching sound enveloped the room and Keith sheepishly unhooks his claws from the tiles, flushing as he willed his fingers to return back to their human form.

 

He had to talk to Kolivan about this, about the urge to mark and possess the other boy, to force him to stay, to protect him and to bend him over and-

 

 

“Fuck no. Not now.” Keith whines, scrubbing his ears furiously. Screw it, he had no idea why he was reacting like this, but he needed to do something about it before he made a mistake with regards to Lance. Running himself under the shower one last time, Keith scooped up his towel before patting himself dry, paying careful attention to his tail that was now looking like a fluffy baton. Grabbing his red sweater, because they needed new clothes by now, Keith shimmied on his dark jeans before stepping out. He didn’t want to head to the party, being the most anti-social of all the paladins, but he knew that Kolivan would be there and Keith hummed as he switched off the lights to the shower room before padding away towards the kitchen.

 

 

Thankfully, there was no music save for some soft classical wind chime like noises. Someone must have notified Allura about the Galras’ sensitive hearing, and Keith sighed in relief as his ears relaxed, returning to their natural poofy state. Spotting Kolivan talking to one of the Xantha ambassadors, Keith hid near the doorway, eyeing the Blade’s leader until a casual flick of Kolivan’s ears told him that he had been noticed. Feeling the tension bleed out of his shoulders, Keith allowed his weight to rest against the door frame as Kolivan quickly finished up his interactions. Right hand picking up another celebratory drink called campatale, Keith straightened his back as Kolivan neared him, back rim rod straight in attention.

 

 

“There’s no need for that Paladin.” Kolivan hummed, his amber eyes flashing under the light as his lips pulled over his canines in a smile. It would have been frightening, but Keith was used to the Galrans’ attempt at smiling. Besides, not many could take the fearsome leader seriously when Kolivan’s hair was now braided into two plaits.

 

 

“Uhh, I don’t think I should-”

 

 

“The campatale is an alcoholic beverage for _most_ alien kind. The Galrans however are an exception. I’m afraid there would be no chances of you getting intoxicated.” Kolivan informed him soothingly, and Keith’s eyes widened in surprise before a sharp grin made its way onto his face. Purple claws reaching out to grasp the offered drink, and Keith felt himself flush as Kolivan raised a questioning eyebrow at his state.

 

 

“Claws usually do not show on you.” Kolivan states, quirking a momentary smile at Keith who tightens his grip on the champagne glass. Breathing out through his nose, Keith tried to regain his bearings even as his claws tapped against the fragile glass.

 

 

“Take your time Keith.” Kolivan murmurs softly, and it’s that gentle tone that has the roil of emotions in Keith raising their heads and hissing. He’s suddenly hit, once again, with the overwhelming need to touch, to run his ivory claws through soft brown tufts of hair, lips following satin skin. The desire to forcefully take what was rightfully his, to grab those fragile wrists and twist them, to make long legs part obediently beneath him, have them wrap around his waist-

 

 

“I’ve, been having issues.” Keith finally chokes out, clearing his throat before taking a sip of the campatale. The inhale of sweetness bathes over his tongue, a momentary distraction as he tries to place a finger on the taste; like mint with a hint of peach and blueberry. He knows he’s stalling, and Kolivan should too, but the leader says nothing, patiently taking another sip as he continues to stare at Keith, giving the other time to formulate his thoughts into words and sentences. After another shuddering breath where he feels more grounded, but also a lot more embarrassed, Keith forces his lips to part, wincing as a monologue falls out.

 

 

“I understand that I do possess some traits such as the added agility, strength, reflexes and ability to shape shift as a half-galran. I appreciate those traits but they are purely physical. Lately I’ve been feeling as though there’s an itch under my skin, an instinctual one that I can’t quite place. It has resulted in some rather… _Strange_ dreams and behaviours. Has there been any um,” a heavy blush finally paints Keith’s cheeks as he feels his throat get strangled with shame, “emotional upheaval…?”

 

 

Understanding paints across Kolivan’s face, almost unnoticeable if it wasn’t for the slight furrow of his eyebrows that quickly smoothens out. A soft sigh escapes the older Galran’s lips and Keith feels confused as a chuckle makes its way out of Kolivan.

 

 

“I’m surprised that your intended did not notice, nor did your team mates. But then again, our actions are different from Alteans and humans, even though you are half of the latter.”

 

 

“I’m sorry I don’t-”

 

 

“Galras do not show our feelings easily. That I am sure you are aware of as it was the most noticeable trait you shared with us. However, putting it bluntly you emote like a Galran cub. Partially because you weren’t raised among us, it was expected that compared to a Galran you were more… _Emotional_ in your actions.” Kolivan paused, taking another sip of his drink, “And so it was rather evident to all of us save yourself and your team mates that you were courting the blue paladin.”

 

 

“The blue- Lance? I was court, wait what?” Keith stammered, eyes wide as he gazed up at Kolivan, still feeling like a child against the towering leader.

 

 

“Galras do not court like Alteans, assuming that your human process is similar to theirs. The Galras are a warrior race. We do not court with gentleness or material items. Not to say that we are incapable of doing so, but it is not the traditional way or what our instincts know of. We look for a mate who complements us on and off the battlefield. Someone who is able to keep up with us in fights and to have our backs, but also someone who is capable of being a giver, a nurturer.” Kolivan gets a knowing glint in his eyes that has Keith swallowing more of his Campatale, purple flush crawling up his neck.

 

 

“The ideal mate should be someone who can stand their own ground but is able to bring balance to the relationship. The blue paladin is undoubtedly your impulse control as Shiro himself said. Not to mention you’ve been constantly displaying your assets to him. Your ability to fight, the risks you take, the kill count you have. To be fair, the blue paladin, Lance,” Kolivan nods thoughtfully to himself, “he _has_ been responding as one would when being courted.”

 

 

“I’m afraid you must be mistaken!” Keith rushes out, eyes wide as he stares at Kolivan in disbelief, “Lance would never, he…”

 

 

“Who goads you in all your battles? Who competes with you in a show of strength? Who do you allow and who _tries_ to touch your ears?” Kolivan retorts calmly, and Keith feels his face burn with embarrassment. There was no denying the fact that Lance and him frequently competed against each other; they were rivals after all. From who stayed upright in training the longest, who took out the most drones, they were an unstoppable team.

 

 

Except it hadn’t just halted there. Being exposed to each other’s presence for so long inevitably led to them becoming closer, and what were initially insults became veiled quips of sarcasm. It became a jest every time to see who had a higher kill count, and then it became a natural process to find one another when they needed comfort. But Galran ears were sensitive beyond measure, and the most vulnerable part of them all. It took a lot of trust for Keith to allow his team mates to scratch his ears, and even when he did, many opted not to due to the stiffening of Keith’s spine every time they did. Lance was the only one who would run his fingers from the tuft like tips of his ears to the base, and the only one who could ever illicit a purr from Keith. It was ridiculously obvious, Keith realised as he flushed, and decided that it was better to accept the inevitable than to stew in denial.

 

 

“E-Even if this is true. That perchance Lance returns my… feelings.” Keith swallowed, eyes darting down before locking with Kolivan’s own amber gaze, “What do I do now?”

 

 

“What do your instincts tell you?” Kolivan bares his teeth at Keith and the latter blushes before nodding his head. Shaking his head at the cub, Kolivan sighed as the red paladin picked up a bottle of campatale and two glasses, humming under his breath. Instincts guided most of the Galras, and it would not lead the red paladin wrong. However, Kolivan thought warily as Keith left the room, Galras did not complete the mating ceremony gently. And something about the blue paladin told Kolivan that he was fragile in a way that was dangerous if Keith did not properly explain what mating insinuated. The cub had never been good with words.

 

 

Swallowing hard, Keith tried to regulate his breathing, counting in time with his steps as he headed to the hanger. His talk with Kolivan had been _mind-opening_ to say the least, and now Keith was more mentally aware of what he physically wanted. The only problem was after realisation came the need to put in place action. Keith might have been socially clueless, but he wasn’t that clueless till the extent that he would just grab Lance and have him. There was no guarantee that Lance liked him back, but Keith could no longer hold back the burning questions. Something had to be done before the flames of hunger swallowed him from inside out.

 

 

Ducking under Green’s paws, Keith gently rapped his knuckles against Blue’s mouth, allowing a wry grin to cross his face as he felt her brush across his consciousness. It was similar to Red’s, but a lot calmer, and much to Keith’s embarrassment, was tinged with fond exasperation. He prayed Red hadn’t been gossiping about his feelings to the other lions. A soft rumble escaped the mechanical lion, and Keith breathed a sigh of relief as her mouth opened, metal like steps unfolding down to his feet. Heart pounding, Keith forced himself to walk, strolling into the cockpit like he had done so a billion times. Only, his feet came to a freezing halt of their own accord as Lance turned, torso twisting to face Keith.

 

 

One hand scrunched in his hair and another bringing the towel to his chin, Lance’s sun-kissed throat was long and lithe, and Keith could not help the way his eyes swept over the blue paladin. Not assessing as he usually did, but appreciating. Those long, tanned legs, smooth brown skin and well-defined calves that Keith could spend hours admiring disappeared into a pair of blue boxers. And even though Lance’s chest was covered by his usual shirt, Keith could see the way it stretched tightly over Lance’s middle, tracing his broad shoulders. But the most beautiful part of Lance were his eyes, Keith thought hungrily as those blue beauties locked onto his own. They were a swirling tidal pool of emotions and strength, as if the whole Carribean had squeezed its very essence into the eyes of the Cuban. Keith wanted.

 

 

“Umm…” Lance cleared his throat, thanking the heavens that his lion was dark and not lit up. Otherwise, he was fairly sure that Keith would have been able to see the flush that ran across his cheeks. Keith’s eyes roved over his body, drinking him in and Lance could feel himself tremble with an unknown sense of anticipation. It made him want to curl, to let Keith see just how well he could move and curve under his hands. The way the other looked at him was making Lance weak in the knees, his heart stutter and his brain incoherent.

 

 

“Take a picture. It’ll last longer you know.” Lance finds himself blurting out without thinking, his heart racing at the way Keith’s eyes rove across his face before locking eyes with him. Those purple cobalt grey would be the death of him, Lance thinks nervously as Keith finally speaks.

 

 

“Thought I’d bring the party to you.” The red paladin shrugged, “Campatale’s a kind of alcohol if you want some.”

 

 

And _of course_ , Keith was just here to keep him company.

 

 

“Uh yeah sure.” Lance finds himself saying, voice somehow miraculously nonchalant as he makes his way over to Keith, “A whole bottle? How wasted do you want to get man?”

 

 

The red paladin shrugs again, and Lance licks his lips as Keith pours him a glass. Up close, Keith is even prettier, and Lance feels his heart swell with fondness, the previous balloon of anger from before fading away. After all, that was essentially how their relationship had always worked, Lance mused as he sipped on the drink, eyes glancing now and again to sneakily look at Keith’s face. No matter how furious or envious he was of the red paladin, he always found himself wishing to be closer. It wasn’t enough, not the scores, not their roles, not their banters. He wanted everything Keith had to offer, and Lance felt his body flush as he studied the curve of Keith’s neck, the side burns that had grown long and the mullet tucked in his sweater. Drinking the last drop, Lance is just about to ask Keith to pour him another when he sees that the bottle is already half empty. Alarmed, Lance straightens his back, one hand letting go of the towel he has draped around his neck.

 

 

“What the hell? Keith do you want to get alcohol poisoning or-” Lance’s words die, sputtering to a halt like an old engine that can’t seem to start, his heartbeat quickening as Keith looks up at him through his lashes, eyes bright. There’s a deep stir, and Lance can almost see flames flickering in those purple grey eyes. Time seems to slow as the silence builds, and Lance is unable to break away from the hunger he sees in Keith’s eyes.

 

 

“I want you.” Keith whispers huskily, and Lance feels his pulse jump. Keith is drunk, he knows that. No one could drink half a bottle of alcohol after avoiding it for maybe a few years and not be drunk. There was no chance that Keith was sober, and yet Lance yearned to believe in those words. He wanted to believe that Keith meant it, meant that he wanted to trace constellations in the sky together, tangle their legs sleepily and that most of all, it meant that he wanted to _stay_.

 

 

“Lance?” Keith swallows, trying to bite down the panic that roils in him as Lance stares, eyes wide, laugh lines gone as the delicate skin stretches to accommodate the stunned reaction Lance has. The other the boy is dead silent, and Keith wants to speak, but he can’t. The words are somehow jumbled together in his mind, the letters not falling in the right order, and Keith is drowning by the hands of those Carribean blue eyes.

 

 

What can he say? Lance thinks, the lump in his throat suddenly too big, his hands tightening on the glass. He should refuse, back away because Keith is drunk and that boy has always, _always_ , been reckless. It doesn’t mean anything because those words are just a mere blip in Keith’s system, Lance feels the voice in his head murmur, and it’s true. But if it’s true, why is it so difficult to pull away? Lance wants to sob, to yell at Keith for putting him in this position, but the boy doesn’t know anything because it’s Keith. It’s so fucking perfectly _Keith-like_. He takes what he wants, never minding the aftermath and Lance wants to give it to him anyway.

 

 

“I…” Lance swallows, eyes darting away as he collects himself, the word no poised at the tip of his tongue. But it never manages to, and Lance feels himself almost flinch as Keith’s fingers brush against his cheek, tender and loving.

 

 

Cruel, in its own way.

 

 

 _He’s leaving in two days, and he might never come back._ Lance tries to remind himself as his heart jumps, teetering at the edge of a cliff, stuck between the devil and the deep blue sea. He should say no. He should say no and walk away. He should not think about what it would be like to press his lips to Keith’s, to drink in his taste. What it would like to have him close enough, skin touching skin. He should not be thinking of Keith’s love, and be whether or not it would burn him alive. He knows, god he knows he shouldn’t.

 

 

“Lance…” Keith breathes out, soft and sweet, his voice low, breath fanning across Lance’s lips, and the Cuban breaks. Lance feels it, that chip in his soul from before that enlarges into a giant crack, ripping away from him with such agony, knowing that he’s giving a part of himself to Keith. After all, he would always give no matter how much it hurt him. Be it sacrificing for Voltron, taking a step back, hiding his tears as homesickness raked its claws over his heart, Lance had done it all. But now, Keith was asking for the very last thing that was still pure, untouched and encased in the fragile cage of his emotions.

 

 

“Okay.” Lance swallows, eyes caught by that brilliant purple gaze, even as his chin trembled. Those very eyes that had stolen his breath away now lightened, turning a soft muted gold. Light amber flecks danced with a daring honey brown underneath the fluorescent lights peeking in from Blue’s mouth, and Lance felt the very essence of his soul quiver, as if Keith had just ran his hand along it. Keith inched closer, and Lance straightened, anxiety making his body freeze even as Keith shot him a tender grin.

 

 

“You going to kiss me or not?” Lance finally blurts out, the tension in the cockpit rising, electrifying every single one of his nerve endings. Keith snorts and Lance huffs as his cheeks warm, eyes casting downwards.

 

 

“Okay.” Keith licked his lips, throat suddenly dry as Lance’s eyes darted to the ground, measuring the distance between their bodies. It’s close, close enough that Keith can feel Lance’s body heat, and it send his own body into overdrive, goosebumps breaking out. Lance was beautiful, and Keith could not bite down the waves of disbelief swirling in his chest, ebbing and crashing multiple times. How could someone so perfect willingly become his? Keith was never allowed to have things, but Lance, all blue eyes and brown skin was willingly letting him invade his own personal space. Desire flared up, stoked embers finally coming to life as Keith leaned in to capture those lips.

 

 

The kiss was chaste, a press of lips against lips that was innocent in ways the Paladins have long since forgotten. Fighting an inter-galactic war had easily stripped away what innocence and child-like wonder they had of the universe. But now, now Keith felt like a child staring up at the night sky from the wooden shack, his father cooking in the kitchen and his breath stolen away by the magnificent view. Now it was all Lance, Lance’s crisp lemon shower gel, Lance’s shallow breaths, and Keith wanted it all. Surging forward, desire kindled, Keith felt his blood roar in his ears as his right hand snaked up to pull Lance in.

 

 

Now, he could take as much as he wanted.

 

 

A sharp gasp escapes Lance’s lips, and the Cuban chokes as he feels a gentle touch on his chin, pulling him forward. That split second of air is all he can take before Keith moves, chasing his lips. It’s glorious, the heat of chapped lips growing with every slide until Keith bites, nipping gently at his bottom lip. Surprised, Lance feels himself let out a questioning hum only to have it swallowed whole by Keith, tongue stroking insistently at the seam of his mouth. Heart pounding, Lance cautiously allows him access, and a whimper flies out as Keith rushes forward, kissing him the only way the red paladin knew how.

 

 

Tongues battled for dominance, and Lance quickly finds himself losing ground, too overwhelmed by Keith’s taste, that familiarity warming him from inside out. It’s Keith’s other hand, raking through his hair that has him gasping, tilting his head back, lips swollen and raw. Glancing down, Lance feels heat pool in his abdomen as he gets a good look of Keith, pupils completely expanded such that the yellow glint could no longer be seen. Panting softly, Keith groans, and Lance can’t help the squeak of surprise as Keith drops his head, two fluffy appendages rising through his messy ebony hair.

 

 

“K-Keith?!”

 

 

“I need you.” Keith growls, a shudder rocking through his body as he feels his instincts run a little wilder, images flashing through his mind, wanting to run his teeth along toned brown legs and to sink them into the soft-

 

 

“Bedroom. _Now_.” Keith snarls, yanking Lance forward, his own fingers trembling and curling into the towel hung around Lance’s neck. Lance’s eyes are wide in shock, and Keith has to force himself to breathe, to take his time instead of just pressing the other into the wall. He wouldn’t hurt Lance, god he would _never_ , but being so close to him, and _tasting_ that sharp spicy scent of arousal made him giddy with desire. Reeling himself backwards, Keith willed himself to relax, shoulders releasing their tension as he takes a step away.

 

 

“Are you coming?” He snaps, voice low and guttural.

 

 

“O-Okay.” Lance whispers, legs stumbling as he follows Keith. Like a string pulling him forward, it’s a haze as he clumsily leaves Blue, the towel hanging precariously around his neck. The castle’s fluorescent lights burn his eyes, the glow harsh and stark against metal walls as they rush down the corridor. They leave the hanger, but Keith is always a step ahead of him, and the neediness grows. Whimpering softly, Lance trips over his feet as he tries to reach for Keith, finger barely grazing the other before Keith pulls away sharply, snarling. Disappointment rises, heavy and thick in his stomach at Keith’s blatant rejection before calloused fingers wrap around his wrist and _yanks_.

 

 

His screeching tapers off into a yelp as he’s slammed against the door, and he barely registers the room ( _it’s Keith’s_ ) before the other is kissing him ferociously, fingers curling over Lance’s abdomen. Keith kisses the way he fights, all actions and no words, biting, aggressive, and it sends arousal fluttering, Lance whining into the other’s mouth. A loud croon escapes Keith’s lips, and Lance gasps at the vibration, deep and rumbling as Keith slides his mouth over to Lance’s throat, laving at his skin.

 

 

“I want to mark you. Devour you. Fuck your skin is so soft I just—” Keith swears, voice rough as he rakes his hands down Lance’s flat abdomen, shuddering as he felt Lance’s warm skin, thrumming with energy. Lance was _his_ , the blue paladin had accepted _his_ proposal, Keith thought, a low growl rising through his throat as he slides upwards, letting his amber gaze to fall on brown supple skin. Lance’s tummy was flat, smooth ridges with barely defined abs peeking through, and all Keith could picture in his mind was Lance sitting on his lap, belly swollen and voice catching in trembling whimpers. He wanted those brown legs shaking with desire, and blue carribean eyes watering with desperation. He wanted to mate him, breed him, _brand him_.

 

 

“I-I don’t have abs like Shiro mullet.” Lance finally breathes out, voice catching as Keith’s touch against his navel sends his body quivering. It’s strange, Lance realises as he lets out little sensitive whimpers that Keith ignores, hand splayed over his flat tummy, the heat of Keith’s hand imprinting on him. He was never this sensitive before, but everything Keith did was setting his nerve endings on fire, from his voice to his touch. It made Lance want to spread his legs, and flushing with embarrassment, he turned away, right hand rising upwards to cover the sounds his mouth was making.

 

 

“Don’t even think about it.” Keith snarls, nostrils flaring as his left hand rises, grasping Lance’s hands and slamming it above his head. A low rumbling sound croons out from him as Lance cries out, head knocking backwards in shock. Keith shudders, spine bowing as he pants softly into Lance’s neck, tongue laving over the spot that would embody the mating mark. The mating mark, Keith thought in a daze through his lust-filled mind, that he had to ask for permission. He had to ask Lance.

 

 

“Lance,” Keith purrs, voice velvet as he noses his way up Lance’s temple, breathing in the cuban’s scent, spicy with arousal, crisp and pure like laundry after a rainy day, “I’m going to be rough on you. I’m going to breed you _so good_. But only, _only_ if you say yes.” Keith paused, biting at the shell of Lance’s ear, tongue soothing away the sting, “Verbally. Out loud. Say it for me Lance. Say you’ll let me.”

 

 

“I- Ah!” Lance gasped, eyes squeezing shut as he hears Keith’s filthy words, feeling the way the other boy pressed against him, all hard lines of muscle and heavy body mass. His hands can’t move, Lance realises as he squirms, finding Keith’s hands to be shackles, pressing down tight and hard. It sends a thrill of desperation through him, and Lance finds he doesn’t mind the way Keith is talking, voice honeyed but words deadly. It’s poisonous, and it intoxicated him to his very bones.

 

 

“O-Okay, I-ah stop! I’ll let you, mmh!” Lance whimpered, back curving as Keith growled, teeth grazing his skin, “I’m a virgin Keith!” Lance finally snaps, squeezing his thighs together and looking away as Keith pauses in his ministration, Lance’s own cheeks flushing with embarrassment and mortification at that confession. He was too much of a romantic, wanting to lose his first time to someone he loved and how could he refuse when Keith gave him such a proposition? But Keith, saying those words, they turned him on so much but it wasn’t the tone of someone gentle. Someone who loved him back. Lance wanted to punch something in anger.

 

 

“Lance,” Keith took in a gulp of air, struggling to clear his head, “I’ll never hurt you. _Ever_.” Cupping the other boy’s face with his free hand, Keith spoke, voice low, “But if it’s too much,” his lungs burned, “it’s okay. You can go.” Keith would never force himself onto Lance, even though he wanted to do nothing but to brand the boy with his teeth; it was enough knowing that Lance shared his feelings. It would always be enough.

 

 

Staring at Keith with his pupils blown, nostrils flaring and tail whipping back and forth impatiently, Lance realised several things at the same time. Firstly, inebriated or not, Keith was still respectful and cherished him enough to stop his own actions. Secondly, drunk Keith had moments of sobriety and in those moments, he still found Lance extremely attractive. Enough to continue to want him. Thirdly, all of the above signs pointed to the very discrete possibility that in time, Keith would harbour feelings of a sort for him. Hope bloomed in his chest painfully, and Lance found himself viciously desperate. He wanted Keith to have him, and in the process, _he_ would mark Keith. He would taint the other boy with memories, with a taste of skin against skin. He would hold Keith captive in his desire, unable to find anyone else that could satisfy him, and one day, _one day when he was good enough_ , he would finally have him as an equal.

 

 

He was going to marry this fucking boy, mark his words.

 

 

“Rules.” Lance licked his lips, voice rough but firm, his eyes flashing as he takes in Keith’s surprised expression, “No bleeding. No bite marks on my neck.” At Keith’s pout, Lance finds himself relenting, “Bruises are fine. But no bite marks.” _Because I don’t think I can look at those scars and not fall apart missing you when you’re gone_.

 

 

“A-Anything else?” Keith croaks, body coiled tight like a spring waiting to move, his eyes greedily drinking in Lance’s features, desire thrumming in his blood. He wanted, but he would not take until Lance said so. He would not take. He would _never_.

 

 

“Fuck me like you mean it.” Lance answers throatily, eyelashes already dotted with tears as he tilts his neck, giving Keith access, “Make this the best fucking night so that no matter what,” Lance’s gaze burns, fire lighting in those carribean blue eyes, “no one will _ever_ satisfy you like I can.”

 

 

The string, the tightrope Keith was carefully treading snaps, and it’s a whiplash effect, Lance thinks in a daze as the other boy snarls and throws him onto the bed. Yelping slightly, bouncing on the mattress, Lance has barely risen, leaning back on his elbows when Keith yanks of his sweater, body rippling. He’s muscled, body near perfection from all the training he does with the simulation, and Lance honest to Gods practically sobs when Keith turns to face him, the sharp v at his hips making him dizzy.

 

 

“Spread your legs.” Keith rumbles, and Lance blinks as the boy crawls towards him, slinking forward like a cat, “Spread them.” Flushing, but somehow just as bold, Lance rises to meet the challenge. He shimmies off his boxers before pressing his legs together, and Keith growls as Lance tilts his head forward defiantly, lip curling. It’s a sight to behold, and pride reverberates in Keith’s chest even as he scowls at the disobedience. This was his mate, his equal. His mate who would be strong enough to reject other advances, his mate that accepted him for his flaws, his mate that was a giver and a taker; his mate, that would make him work for what he wanted. Lance was utterly perfect, and Keith _loved_ him.

 

 

“I said,” Keith reached, finally able to press his hands into the curve of Lance’s hips, sliding down to those toned muscular thighs before he forcefully pulled them apart, “ _Spread them_.” Lance swears, but it stutters off, his blue eyes wide as Keith presses one clothed knee to his erection. It’s embarrassing, Lance thinks, his voice escaping his lips in little mewls as Keith runs a hand along his shaft before pumping, his own thighs shaking and rising up to thrust against Keith’s hand for friction. It’s like a lightning bolt to his senses, sending every part of him into oversensitivity.

 

 

“Perfect. Just, fucking-” Keith growls, cutting himself off as he surges forward, capturing Lance’s mouth into a kiss, swallowing those desperate noises. It’s messy and hot, feeling Lance muffled whines being breathed into his own mouth, sliding his tongue against the other and feeling the other boy take it. Breaking off the kiss, Keith wants to shout at the debauched way Lance looked, his brown hair fluffing against the pillow, lips swollen and raw from biting and kissing, saliva dripping as he panted, eyes pooling with tears.

 

 

“Beautiful.” Keith purred, sliding his nose over Lance’s pulse point before opening his mouth and sucking hard. Lance was his, he thought to himself as he brought a knee between Lance’s legs, pressing down. Lance was _his_. His entirety all belonged to Keith, and no one would ever have him. Those gorgeous tanned legs for days, those damn hips and that rounded ass was his. _His his his_ , Keith chanted in his mind as he growled, nipping and sucking at the spot, eyes blazing. In all that time, Keith hears the steady cry of Lance growing louder, the boy sobbing softly, rocking and grinding against Keith’s knee. Switching over to Lance’s other neck, Keith snarls into Lance’s ear, the pressure increasing as he pressed his knee a little harder.

 

 

“You’re going to cum like this. Grinding against me like you fucking want it.” Keith growls, ignoring his own raging erection as Lance nods his head frantically, hands scrabbling up Keith’s arms as the Cuban rocks himself. It’s a dirty sight, Keith thinks, mouth falling onto Lance’s collarbone, tongue raking over the sore bruises he has formed while the other shakes beneath him. Little cries puff out, and those pretty hands sink into Keith’s purple skin, nails leaving crescent marks behind as Lance worked his hips, thighs bouncing jerkily in a weak attempt to get off.

 

 

“I don’t even need to touch you.” Keith rumbles, drawing back to get a better view of Lance, his eyes falling on the cock that dragged over his jeans, precum already seeping out. Lance pants, shaking his head as his hips stutter, gibberish falling from his lips as Keith purposefully rubs his thigh against him, making the boy spasm.

 

 

“Such a pretty cock Lance. I want to see you cum.” Keith crooned, eyes dark as he nuzzled Lance, hands crawling up Lance’s stomach, “Get you relaxed and loose for something much fucking better.” At his words, Lance chokes out a soft “Oh Dios!”, and Keith hums as his hands pinches Lance’s chest, rolling those soft nubs between his fingers until they’re perky and warm, and his mouth moves to finish the job.

 

 

“Oh mierda- Keith, Keith, Keith no puedo-Ah!” Lance sobs, body seizing as he feels his orgasm wash over, body pulled taut as it rolls, his thighs shaking from the aftermath. He’s seeing stars and symbols, but it isn’t enough, so much so that Lance almost howls in frustration, hips still shaking on their own. Keith is still going, tongue swirling over his sensitive nipples, grazing his teeth over them that Lance soft cock jerks from sensitivity, and whimpering, Lance shoves Keith’s head, his eyes watering. Letting out a soft noise of delight, Keith raises his head, and Lance finds himself blushing as Keith chuckles, one hand brushing against the spent cock that twitches in interest.

 

 

“K-Keith, you’re…” Lance swallows, his eyes darting to the bulge between Keith’s legs, eyes raking across the size. It’s huge, and Lance feels his anxiety start to rise before Keith rumbles, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips that has him distracted.

 

 

“Turn onto your stomach for me.” Keith purrs, and Lance squeaks as the red paladin man handles him, sliding a soft pillow under his hips. Confused, Lance raises his head to look back, only to yelp as a firm hand slaps against his ass, the sound reverberating in the room. Whimpering from the heat, Lance gasps, blinking back tears from the pain that zapped through his body like a white-hot iron rod. Behind him, Keith rumbles out a soft assent, his hands kneading the soft sensitive flesh. Humming softly, Keith bends forward, pressing a kiss to the inner portion of Lance’s thighs that has the boy freezing, tensing nervously.

 

 

“You’re soft here.” Keith growls approvingly, and he hears Lance let out a soft breathless laugh.

 

 

“I moisturise. Unlike you.”

 

 

“I mean,” Keith rumbles, as he grazes his teeth against that supple skin, “that your thighs are fucking soft the way breeding mates are. All soft and curvy with hips for bearing pups.” He feels more than hears Lance’s sharp intake of breath, and Keith grins against Lance’s legs as he smells the spicy scent of arousal start to rise. Chuckling lowly, Keith presses more open mouthed kisses against Lance’s legs, drawing close to his balls but never near enough, before he sinks his teeth down, feeling Lance’s thighs clamp around his head as the Cuban swears, voice weak.

 

 

“Bloody hell-!!”

 

 

“You’ve got a filthy mouth.” Keith breathes as he finally unzips his pants, eyes raking over the blooming bruises and bites that now dot Lance’s thighs like stars in the sky. Sliding it off, Keith feels himself shudder as he gingerly wraps a hand around his own cock, biting his lip to muffle his groan of pleasure. Being half-galra had resulted in numerous physical changes. One of which was his cock, the size swelling and becoming larger than most humans, with a bulbous base where his knot was. The colour was off-putting too, being purple, and Keith shuddered as he slid his fingers against the silt, precum pooling into his palm as he collected it.

 

 

“Me? I have a filthy mouth? Says the person who mmpf-!!” Lance chokes, as his head is yanked back, Keith’s hand holding his head aloft while the other slides into his mouth. It takes a moment, but Lance whimpers as he finally tastes Keith’s precum, a strange bitter and sour liquid that has him cringing as Keith’s fingers press against his tongue.

 

 

“Lick it.” Keith growls without thinking, his instincts nudging him to make sure Lance swallows. Another whine escapes, but Lance obeys, and Keith purrs as the other begins to suck, tongue slowly licking across his fingers, throat bobbing as he swallowed. Drooling, Lance whines around Keith’s fingers, tongue laving between each one, twirling indecently. Pressing kisses to Lance’s temple, Keith patted Lance’s tongue, curling his fingers against the roof of Lance’s mouth, crooning as Lance’s tongue lazily flicked against them.

 

 

It takes a moment, but Lance swears that something has happened to him ever since he licked Keith’s fingers. The taste for one, was strange and for some reason he was hungry for it. Keith had been fierce too, almost forcefully making him swallow. His body heating and shaking, Lance gave a muffled moan around Keith’s fingers, wriggling his hips in confusion. It was building in him, sending his insides squirming with desire and heat, a slow roil of neediness that sent him floundering. The warmth pervaded his entire body, starting off like the slow spark of a flame driving upwards, his own thoughts hazy like the smoke of a campfire. Fingers digging into the duvet, twisting the sheets, Lance moaned, back curving as he pushed his ass outwards, a soft whimper escaping his lips.

 

 

“K-Keith…? What’s, what did you?”

 

 

“I…” Keith sucked in a breath, his eyes flickering to Lance’s ass before a low growl of frustration escaped him. He could smell it, a honey like scent that crawled around Lance, enveloping him. It made him hungry for more, as if he couldn’t get enough of it, the sharp coil of sweetness that curled at the roof of his mouth, taunting him. And that scent was coming from somewhere that made the hunger in Keith deepen into a roaring flame. Fingers digging into the other boy’s curves, Keith shivered as he parted Lance’s ass, his eyes falling onto Lance’s hole, eyes widening as he caught sight of the wet shiny image, slick slowly oozing out. The sharp yelp from Lance brought him out of his daze, and Keith felt his lips quirk into a smirk, his thumb gently grazing over the outer rim.

 

 

“K-Keith?”

 

 

“It seems I don’t need lubrication.” Keith purred, and Lance jerked in confusion, his eyebrows furrowing together worriedly. Swollen lips parted to speak, and Keith gave a chuckle as he slid his index finger in, eliciting a loud moan from the brunette. It was as if Keith had lit a match to all his nerves, setting them aflame. Every sound, every curl of his finger was amplified to Lance, and the brunette mewled into the bed with every stroke. Pumping his finger in and out, Keith shuddered, snarling as he leaned over the taller, lips reaching for Lance’s neck to suck and bruise, leaving him with a necklace of hickies. Love bites that dotted his necks the way a collar would. An ownership symbol.

 

 

“You’re so tight. And wet.” Keith crooned, adding another finger and watching greedily as Lance’s back snapped upright, straightening as the boy whimpered, soft little cries that were being muffled by the pillow. Instinct told Keith to be careful, and the red paladin crooked his fingers, searching for the pleasure spot in Lance’s hole.

 

 

“Ah! Oh Dios mío! Se siente tan bien, ah!” Lance sobbed, hips rising to meet the two fingers currently knuckle deep in him, and Keith purred at the reaction. Scissoring his fingers, Keith continued to abuse Lance’s prostate, his eyes greedily drinking in every shake of Lance’s hips, every jerk of his thighs, and every sharp cry that fell from his lips.

 

 

“Doing so well for me, opening yourself up. So wet and ready for me. Want to breed you. Want to fuck you on my knot.” Keith crooned, panting into Lance’s ear as he felt every clench on his fingers. Lance was wet, the slick making every slide easy and smooth, and Keith could only dream of what it would fill like buried into him.

 

 

“Fuck I want to, I want-”

 

 

“¡Si si si! Oh por favour, por favor,” Lance gasped, chest heaving as he keened, a soft sound as he rutted against the pillow, tear tracks falling down his face, “Keith, fuck me oh my _god_ -”

 

 

Snarling, Keith finally withdrew his fingers, shuddering as he pinned Lance down onto the bed. No protests were made, and Keith wanted to coo at the submissiveness Lance showed him. Lance looked beautiful, hazel soft skin drenched with sweat, giving him a healthy golden sheen, while his eyes were like the deepest pools of waterfalls. Splayed out before him, the Cuban looked absoloutely wrecked. Sporting a hard cock was the least of it, as Keith allowed his eyes to rake over the pert stiff nipples that remained from their foreplay to the lewd spread of Lance’s legs. Those brown toned legs that he had dreamed off parting, forcing them open to reveal Lance’s hole was now reality, and Keith purred as he caught sight of the dripping wet virgin rim. Languidly pumping himself, Keith cocked his head, staring at the way Lance laid down, spread like a buffet, and felt hunger rise within him.

 

 

This, all of it, was _his_. Lance belonged to him, just like he belonged to Lance. He wanted all of which that made up the blue paladin, everything good and bad. He wanted to see what he looked like happy, all bright smiles and laughter. He wanted to be there when Lance was broken, when he was crying his heart out of sadness. He wanted to hold him when times get tough, protect him when people were rough. Because god damn it Lance deserved it, deserved it all and Keith was going to stake his claim. Lance was his, and no one would be able to have him; not even when he was away from earth.

 

 

“You’re mine.” Keith growled, and Lance wanted to laugh at Keith’s stupidity because _since when have I never been yours?_ But that was all the warning the blue paladin had before Keith was sinking into him, the blunt head of his cock going past Lance’s rim and finally entering him.

 

 

“Oh Dios ... Oh, Dios mío. Mierda. Mierda, mierda-” Lance gasped, back curving as he felt Keith sink into him, inch by inch. It was glorious, feeling connected to the other boy while the stretch burned him. Quivering as he bit into the pillow, Lance flinched as he felt Keith’s hands grasp his hips, digging into the edges of his hipbones.

 

 

“Oh quiznak you feel so good. So tight and wet Lance. Such a good-!!” Keith groaned, rolling his hips inwards, chasing the tightness, the feeling of Lance clamping down on him, the way slick walls fluttered around his cock greedily. Lance gave out a weak laugh, shifting his hips only to whine as Keith slid in further, stoking the fire and sending him spiralling even higher.

 

 

“I’m going to move.” Keith rasped, and Lance nodded his head vigorously, gasping as words became non-existent, the only sound in the room being the wet slide of cock slipping in and out of him, the sound of skin against skin. He could hear the thrumming of Keith’s adrenaline, blood rushing to his ears as his mind tuned in towards other details. The soft pant of Keith’s breath. The steady beat of his heart that seared through his skin. The scent of sweat, of Keith that distinctively reminded him of fresh laundry and machinery oil. The feeling of being intimately connected, of Keith sinking into him, deeper and deeper as pleasure raced up his spine, as sparks sapped him of his strength.

 

 

“Going to breed you.” Keith growled, his ears flattening against his head as he growled, voice rough along the edges, straining to be heard as he fucked Lance. Seeing that puffy hole, stretched out to accommodate him, the rim sucking him in every time he pulled out was driving Keith wild. That, accompanied with the wet sound of slick, a sharp slapping sound echoed by Lance’s pleasured cries, his sweet voice ringing out high, made him move faster.

 

 

“Sing for me Lance. I want to hear you. Fuck you’re all mine. So beautiful, so strong. You’re going to take my knot aren’t you? _Aren’t you?_ ” Keith whispered hoarsely as he shifted, lifting up one of Lance’s thighs to dive in even deeper. The answering scream of his name makes Keith chuckle, and he continues talking, voice wavering now and then as he inched closer and closer towards an orgasm.

 

 

“Don’t know how fucking gorgeous you look taking me like this. Want to do it forever. Feels so fucking good.” Keith rasped, shuddering as he felt his knot begin to grow, the base starting to catch against Lance’s rim. A weak keen, followed by a desperate moan has Keith swearing as he thrusts, shuddering.

 

 

“Say it. Say you want my knot Lance.” Keith snarls, lips pressing against Lance’s throat, his tail thrashing as his hips snapped back and forth, propelling him forward into Lance.

 

 

“¡Sí! Por favor, Keith, por favor. Lo quiero.” Lance whispered, voice soft as he shook, hips pushing back eagerly against Keith. The tension was building, and he could feel that arousal from before rising from his abdomen. The electrifying sensation that ran through his body was buzzing like a live wire, and Lance found himself begging, voice weak from over-stimulation. The result is a low croon from Keith and a particularly hard thrust that has Lance screaming as he feels the knot squeeze into him. Stretched achingly full, Lance barely has time to recuperate before Keith is grinding into him, forcing his cock against Lance’s prostate.

 

 

“Keith, Keith, Keith!” Lance chants, back arching as he tries his hardest to press even closer, feeling the heat and pulse of Keith’s cock in him as well as the giant knot lodged in him. It’s full, and all Lance can think in his head is how _no one has taken him like this, no one can fulfil Keith like this, we’re perfect for each other_.

 

 

“You’re mine _querido_.” Keith whispers into his ear, and it’s the way he says it. Voice husky and low, sweet and gentle. Saying it as if he meant it, meant every word and that Keith really loved him. Loved him for every bicker and every fight. For every battle they won and every battle they lost. Through the ups and down when planets were liberated and when they didn’t make it in time. For everything and anything that they had seen or been through, past present or future. That Keith loved _him_ and that the way Keith was looking at him now, with blown eyes that looked like a supernova, like the countless planets that Lance used to dream of discovering and the way stars always glimmered brighter out here than back home where it wasn’t easy to be perfect-

 

 

_Me encanta._

_Lo amo, lo amo, lo amo._

_I love him._

 

 

With a loud harsh gasp, Lance came, his eyes squeezing shut as pleasure raced through his body, sending his back curving as thoughts raced through his mind. Back home where his mamá used to hug him and tell him it was okay. Remembering when his older brothers had beat up the people in high school that said he was a freak for liking boys too. When his sisters had cheered him when he got into the Garisson. Where he couldn’t be a fighter pilot. When he talked too much. Where no one liked him. When he was too loud, too different. When he replaced Keith as a fighter pilot. When he got into Voltron with Keith. When he hated Keith. And then when he loved Keith. When Keith would be leaving. Where Keith could finally find his lineage. Where Keith could meet his parents. Where Keith could find a place to belong. Where Keith, where Keith-

 

 

It’s an empty feeling as Keith’s hips stutter, and the other paladin spills himself into Lance, murmuring sweet nothings into his ear. There’s nothing but a hollow cold sinking stone in his heart, and Lance feels sick as Keith whispers sweet praises into his ear.

 

 

_You’re beautiful. You’re brilliant. Absoloutely wonderful. Gorgeous. You did so well. You’re perfect. I just want to hold you close. You can rest now. I’ll take care of you. You deserve everything._

 

 

But Keith leaving, are the only words that aren’t mentioned as Keith pulls him close.

 

 

The next morning, Lance wakes up in an empty bed. Staring down at the necklace of hickies gracing his throat and the bite marks littering his thighs, Lance feels the bruises, tender and sore, flowering all at once over his body. It doesn’t hurt any lesser than he thought it would, but Lance is prepared and he’s grateful that Keith hadn’t kicked him out after they were done. That would have been way too embarrassing and heart breaking for him to handle. But this is something he expected, Lance realises with a sinking heart as he looks around him, looking at the rumpled sheets that smell of sex, the otherwise fastidiously neat room with nothing in sight but the usual shelves and wardrobe of the castle’s rooms. He knew from the start that Keith would be leaving. That Keith was drunk. That all of this would end up driving the paladin further away. But he had still taken the chance, the once in a lifetime opportunity. Lance straightened his shoulders, refusing to let himself cry; he would not regret this.

 

 

Breakfast is what starts chipping away at Lance’s defences. He had waltzed in, bundled up in his jacket to hide the bruises of course; acting cheerful and happy before taking his usual seat beside Keith. Only the other paladin had flinched the minute he sat down, and Keith had flushed, refusing to make eye contact before scarfing down his food and making a hasty exit. There’s silence in the kitchen then, but the others shrug it off as Keith getting ready to leave. It’s this statement that sends another punch to Lance’s defences, leaving him winded. Keith is leaving, Keith wouldn’t look at him. Keith probably _hated_ him. Lance covers it up with a smile and a few jokes, but it’s the loneliness that delivers the third punch to his defences. The loneliness after being used and thrown away like he was nothing. The soreness in Lance’s ass, the feeling of seed in him that he hadn’t cleaned, was all the blue paladin had for company.

 

 

_Me encanta. Lo amo tanto que me duele. Y estoy bien con eso._

 

 

As the day continued, Lance was fairly sure that Keith was avoiding him. The red paladin was leaving every time he entered the room, and had cited that he was busy whenever Lance asked if he wanted to train. When asked if he needed help in anything, Keith had sighed, scrunching up his forehead before looking away, saying it wouldn’t be necessary. Keith was also becoming increasingly hard to find, so much so that Lance was starting to feel the anxiety and desperation crawling at his throat. It would probably have hurt less, Lance thought darkly, if he hadn’t seen Shiro and Pidge helping Keith. Or the other Blade of Mamora members either.

 

 

_Si lo amo, debo dejarlo ir. ¿Cierto mamá?_

 

 

When the day comes for Keith to leave, Lance tells himself not to expect anything. He tells himself that, and he refuses to look at Keith. He misses the shy glances cast his way, or the way Keith reaches for his hand only to pull back. He misses the way Keith stares at him fondly, the way Keith shadows him protectively. He misses the way Keith looks over at him longingly, or the way the other reaches for his waist only to pull back, red faced. It’s frustrating for the others to watch Lance not notice, and they tell Keith as such.

 

 

“Honestly, you guys are practically dating! Do you want photographic evidence? Cause I’ve got _plenty_. Trust me.” Pidge snaps, arms akimbo as they give Keith a pointed look.

 

 

“Hey, maybe just talk to him. I’m sure he isn’t ignoring you or anything. He’s probably just sad you’re leaving you know?” Hunk answers, patting Keith gently, an understanding smile plastered on his face. The red paladin is obviously flustered from Pidge’s ranting and Hunk’s helpful inputs, but the soft look of support he gets from Shiro, Allura and Coran are enough to give him the courage to touch Lance when he gets ready to leave the Castle.

 

 

“Lance! Can I, can I talk to you?”

 

 

Those words are scary, Lance thinks in alarm, head snapping up to look at Keith who’s dressed in his Mamora suit. It suits him, purple material covering his body sinfully, and yet still giving him the perfect movability in the middle of a battle. Dutifully, Lance raises his eyes to meet Keith’s gaze, and finds himself flashing back to the very first time he had seen the other. They had been at the Garisson, and he had only caught a glimpse of Keith’s side profile. But he would never forget those amethyst eyes that sparked a challenge for him; wanting to make them muted with fondness, glimmering with mischief, dark with lust. But he had never expected for the gaze, amethyst eyes that held the entire galaxy in them, to manage to pour all the letters of the alphabet into a perfect comprehension of affection.

 

 

_Oh, Dios, ten misericordia de mí. No puedo, no cuando me mira así._

 

 

“I… I’m going to miss you. I miss you.” Keith blurts out nervously, wringing his hands as he looks at Lance desperately. He had avoided Lance after they had mated because Kolivan had left out one _very_ important detail about Galran mating. He could _smell_ himself on Lance. Not in the usual way like when they had group hugs and he could scent out fear, anxiety, joy, adrenaline so on so forth. Instead, it was like sending him a platter of all the best scents of Lance. He could smell the spiciness of arousal followed by the contentedness of a sated mate. He could scent his _seed_ in Lance, his _own scent_ on Lance and it _drove him mad_. All he wanted to do was to bend the other over the nearest table or to slam him against the wall and repeat the process over and over again.

 

 

“Oh.” Lance swallowed, and swayed on the spot, biting his lip as Keith spoke, his own heart fluttering before he realised it was an olive branch. One of friendship, to forget everything that had happened. Laughing brightly, Lance hums, rubbing the back of his neck and holding back a wince as he pressed several bruises along his throat.

 

 

“I’m going to miss you too buddy. I mean, we’ll have those tablet phone things to keep in contact so.” Rocking on his heels, Lance gave Keith a soft smile, and watched as the boy hesitated, brows furrowing.

 

 

“I… You’re going back to earth.” Keith speaks slowly, looking at Lance carefully, “And going back to the Garisson right?”

 

 

“Yup! I mean it does seem kind of pointless considering we’re paladins but it seems like a good idea of normalcy for a few years you know? Some time at being a normal student for a change.” Lance shrugs, tilting his head curiously as Keith opens and closes his mouth, frown deepening.

 

 

“I probably won’t join the Garisson though.” Keith says softly, eyes darting to Lance’s face, and Lance feels like the air is knocked out of his lungs even as he hums, pretending to be interested and not as if his heart was breaking into a million pieces.

 

 

“Wouldn’t expect you to man. I mean, you’re a talented pilot even without the Garisson certificate. Plus, you’re part alien. I don’t think you need a degree to get you into space.” Lance answers as logically as he can, pasting a bright smile on his face. One so bright that even he can tell it’s terribly fake.

 

 

“Pft what even.” Keith laughs gently, but the frown doesn’t ease up, and he’s still looking at Lance nervously. As if something’s wrong, and Lance is struggling to keep his façade of joy, as if it wasn’t tearing him apart to watch Keith walk away.

 

 

“You,” Keith takes a deep breath, and when he looks up at Lance, his eyes shine with stubborn determination as he speaks, “if you want some peace and serenity. After the Garisson. We could.”

 

 

Those words make Lance’s whole world spin. It was practically a marriage proposal from Keith, but he gets it. He really does. He has to prove himself, find his place in the world like Keith would before they tried getting together. It’s caution and while it wasn’t some scene out of a romance movie, the fact that his feelings, that any of it could be reciprocated in the future was enough to make him smile. A real smile as he looks up at Keith, face blushing lightly.

 

 

“I would like that.”

 

 

Keith smiles, and Lance feels like this is one of those moments where he hopes someone has a camera to capture it. It’s a rare gem of a smile, with Keith showing of his pearly whites, eyes soft, ears drooping softly around his face and tail curling happily. But what Lance doesn’t expect is for Keith to move forward for a hug, looping strong arms around his waist and burying his face into the crook of Lance’s neck. It makes him stiffen up in shock before Lance is returning the hug full force, hoping Keith’s warmth bleeds into him. For his scent of fresh laundry, machinery oil and wind to stay with him wherever he went like a keepsake. That after Keith leaves he’ll still remember it, remember that night when he’s alone in the Garisson dormitory, pining for a half alien boy with a penchant for the reckless things.

 

 

“After the Garisson.” Keith breathes softly, pulling away as he looks up at Lance, searching in those blue eyes for a confirmation. A promise. Because he doesn’t need kisses or sex for reassurance. He doesn’t need any of that as long as Lance loves him, and he knows those feelings are mutual. He doesn’t need to hold Lance back or tie him down. Keith would wait, no matter how long it took to be with Lance. If his mate wanted to go to the Garisson, he would support it and wait for him. They could travel the galaxy together afterwards, and he could deal with video calls in the meantime.

 

 

“After the Garisson.” Lance breathes out softly, nodding as Keith finally pulls away, his warmth already draining out from Lance’s body. Watching as Keith walked up the fighter jet, metallic stairs glinting underneath the hanger lights, Lance felt a new surge of determination. He would prove himself, he would find his place and show that he was worthy of Keith’s affection. He would earn that boy’s love. He would, Lance told himself as the rest of the crew jogged away from the hanger, watching as the jet finally took flight, carrying his mullet-head lover far far away.

 

 

Sitting in the jet, watching as they departed the castle was another feeling altogether. Watching as the jet pulled away, as Lance and the others waved, shrinking as the distance between them increased. It made Keith sick to the core, body curling in on himself and instinct howling at him to get back down there with his mate. His mate, _his beautiful strong gentle Lance_. It’s agonising to watch as his only friends and family shrank, the palpable distance growing and forcing him to deal with the increasing chasm of emptiness. The pain is so excruciating that he doesn’t even notice as Kolivan sits down beside him until the older actually puts a hand on his shoulder.

 

 

“Ah Kolivan! I didn’t-”

 

 

“Keith. Are you certain Lance understood your feelings?” Kolivan rumbles, and Keith is about to hiss when he realises, embarrassingly, that the older was asking out of worry for a fellow comrade. Chuckling lightly, Keith nodded, already painting an image of Lance in his head, all blue eyes and bright smiles. The way those eyes could see through his soul, his entire frame of being. Smooth hands with long graceful fingers that were gentle, but strong enough to pull the trigger. A personality similar to that of a sunflower, bringing happiness and a sense of belonging. Because that was what Lance was. He was Keith’s _home_.

 

 

“I’m sure he does.” Keith hums, looking out of the window, and resting his chin on his palm as he watched the stars and planets whiz by, “I love him. He knows that.”

**Author's Note:**

> TRANSLATIONS:  
> Oh Dios! = Oh god!  
> Oh mierda- Keith, Keith, Keith no puedo-Ah! = Oh fuck- Keith, Keith, Keith I can’t-Ah!  
> Ah! Oh Dios mío! Se siente tan bien, ah! = Ah! Oh my god! It feels so good, ah!”  
> ¡Si si si! Oh por favor por favor = Yes yes yes! Oh please, please  
> Oh Dios ... Oh, Dios mío. Mierda. Mierda, mierda- = Oh god… Oh, my god. Fuck. Fuck, fuck-  
> ¡Sí! Por favor, Keith, por favor. Lo quiero. = Yes! Please, Keith, please. I want it.  
> You’re mine querido = You’re mine Darling  
> Me encanta. Lo amo, lo amo, lo amo.= I love him. I love him, I love him, I love him.  
> Me encanta. Lo amo tanto que me duele. Y estoy bien con eso. = I love him. I love him so much that it hurts. And I’m fine with that.  
> Si lo amo, debo dejarlo ir. ¿cierto mamá? = If I love him, I should let him go. Right mum?  
> (I had three different suggestions for this translation so-)  
> Oh, Dios, ten misericordia de mí. No puedo, no cuando me mira así. = Oh god have mercy on me. I can't, not when he's looking at me like that.
> 
> Thank you for taking your time to read my work! If you wish to read more head over to 'Bottom of the Hourglass' and I hope you leave a comment in the mean time~ I read (and reply) all the comments found on my work by the way! (You guys can skip this next part on analysing the plotline and future works)
> 
> Now, the lesson, or the purpose of this prequel is to offer a glimpse of what it's like when Lance is starting to lean towards the negative side ie becoming more prone to mental instability. But it's also to emphasise on how words and actions go hand in hand together. It's easy to make mistakes, mistakes that can cost a lot and not just in terms of time like for Klance in this story. Actions are not clear unless they are explained, and words are nothing without actions backing them up. Do not make the mistake of letting time slip away from you due to misunderstandings or lack of clarification.
> 
> As for my next work in this series, I am currently deciding between describing Lance's mental instability (ie when Keith was away) in detail, or to move onto his healing process. I'll be taking a break from this series (mainly because of its dark nature) but I'll be uploading more light hearted Klance works so don't worry!
> 
> Lots of love <3


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